I hit the wall again. And again. Then my strength evaporates, and I sag forward, my forehead dropping to her shoulder as uncontrollable sobs rip out of me. My body folds in on itself, skyscrapers collapsing inward, nothing left standing in the face of utter destruction.
I was twenty. I wasscared. I thought I was a murderer. I...could have walked away. I could have been free.
It was all a lie.
A lie a lie a lie—
When I finally pull back, my face is wrecked. Hers isn’t much better. We stare at each other like strangers who survived the same disaster. I turn away before she can say anything else and head into the living room. I need my goddamn kit.Now. I fumble it open with shaking hands, desperate for something,anything,that will drag me under and make it all just fucking stop. As the needle bites and heroin floods my veins, one thought loops relentlessly...
I became a fucking monster for nothing.
I don’t realize I’m standing until I’m already swaying. The room tilts sideways, the walls breathing in and out like the time I ate too many mushrooms, and something hot and acidic crawls up the back of my throat. My stomach clenches hard enough that I gasp. I stagger forward, bare feet slapping against the floor, my shoulder smashing the doorframe.
“Jude—?” Adriana’s voice spikes instantly. There are panicked, scrambling footsteps behind me. “Hey, what’s wrong? Did you take too much? Talk to me—”
“I’m fine,” I snap, even as my vision tunnels. “I said I’m—”
I don’t make it to the toilet. I drop to my knees instead, hands bracing against cold tile as my body betrays me completely. Thenausea hits, and I retch hard, violently, my whole spine bowing as bile and vodka burn their way out of me. My throat spasms, tears forming in my eyes as my stomach keeps convulsing, even when there’s nothing left to give.
Adriana’s hands hover uselessly near my shoulders. “Oh god, Jude—”
“I told you,” I choke, gagging again. “I’m not—overdosing.”
I don’t know why that matters so much to me. It’s not like it fucking matters anymore. Sweat breaks out across my back, my skin cold and clammy in the worst way. The heroin is like oil in my veins. It dulls the pain in my ribs, my shoulders, and the places they hurt me earlier. But it doesn’t even remotelytouchwhat’s happening in my head. My thoughts start looping, skipping like a broken record.
A lie.
A lie.
A lie.
I laugh suddenly—this ugly, wild sound that doesn’t feel like it comes from me at all. It actually startles me. Adriana freezes behind me, horrified.
I press my forehead to the rim of the toilet, breathing hard. The room feels like it's shrinking, my heartbeat roaring in my ears. My reflection stares back at me from the shower glass—pale, hollow-eyed, pupils blown. A stranger.
A ghost.
“I ruined my life,” I say, and my voice sounds far away. “I ruined it for nothing. I left her...for nothing.”
Another wave of nausea hits, but this time nothing comes up. My body just heaves uselessly, muscles clenching, throat burning. I laugh again, sharper this time, becauseof course,even my body doesn’t know what to do with the truth.
Adriana crouches beside me now, closer.
“I don’t know who I am,” I say. The words spill out before I can stop them. “I built everything on that. Every choice. Every fucked-up thing I did to survive. And now you’re telling me it was all—”
My voice breaks. Hard.
I slam my fist into the tile. Once. Twice. It doesn’t hurt the way it should. That scares me more than if it did. “I became a monster,” I whisper, laughing and crying at the same time now, my chest ripping the fuck open. “Fornothing.”
I can’t stop repeating it.
The drug pulls at me, trying to drag me under, trying to blur the edges of the realization before it can finish carving me open. I wish it would, though. I wish I could just bleed all over the fucking floor. My head lolls, my forehead knocking gently against the porcelain. I feel unreal. Disconnected. Like I’m watching myself from somewhere else…like in a dream. This sensation keeps happening. What…what is it?
“Why did you tell me?” The words are barely a whisper. Then I look up at her terrified expression. “Why did you fucking tell me?” I yell, my words breaking on another sob.
She flinches as I bow my head again. Her hand finally lands on my back. Her touch is light and careful. “I’m sorry,” she says again, her voice breaking apart. “I’m so sorry.”
I don’t answer. I honestly don’t think that I can. Because if I open my mouth, I think I might scream or sob again. Or laugh. Instead, I sit there on the bathroom floor, shaking, sick, high, and fuckingempty.
